


STARMAN: Allied Forces

by csyphrett



Series: Starman [1]
Category: Starman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csyphrett/pseuds/csyphrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1938, and Ste'e P'l't is taking his first steps to be a hero, and try to help another do the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	STARMAN: Allied Forces

STARMAN: Allied Forces  
1  
Ste’e A’st’n P’l’t smiled at the contraption he had built. He had finally been able to harness the primitive technology to create a reader for the disc he had brought from home. All he had to do was test it to see if everything worked the way it should.

The disc should have information he could use to adapt the vacuum tubes and tesla coils to something that would help him get home.

He wondered if home even existed to go back to after what he had seen through the gate he had created.

There had been billions of sapients on the planet when the raiders attacked. Some of them had to be alive. One had to be a doctor who could help him with his changed condition.

His body being on fire was not something that should be going on. At least he had taught himself how to create a shell over the open flame to keep it banked. He felt it had something to do with the planet, and its sun. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t have the instruments to check his condition.

He might blow up any moment.

“Did you get your contraption working, Steve?” Mr. Johnson stepped into the shed that he had helped P’l’t build away from his house.

Mr. Johnson couldn’t quite pronounce the clicks that went in his name, but he had tried and decided on the more human sounding Steve. P’l’t put up with it since the man had given him shelter and perhaps saved his world from the opened gate.

He had also helped with procuring the parts P’l’t needed to make his reader. That was worth something since he didn’t have to do anything to help his unexpected guest and farm hand.

And P’l’t had learned the local vernacular from primers Johnson had from his kids. That had been a big help learning how to convey his needs.

He hadn’t wanted to be confined to acting, and making nonsensical noises. That would have been embarrassing after a few seasons.

“Yes, Mr. Johnson.” P’l’t touched a button. Technical data spilled into the air from the projector he had rigged. “It’s working fine. Maybe it will be able to tell me what happened to me.”

“Good.” Mr. Johnson tipped his hat. “I have to inspect the fence line. We may have to reset the posts if Cardy has been at it again.”

P’l’t nodded. Cardy was the neighbor’s bull. Sometimes he liked to roam. That meant repairing where he broke the fence down.

Mr. Johnson didn’t want to start a feud over the animal, but he didn’t want to fix his fence line every few days. Words with the neighbors had not garnished the reaction he wanted.

“I’ll let you know, Steve.” Mr. Johnson nodded his head before leaving the shed.

P’l’t played the reader. He had no way to access the disc’s information other than to read until he saw something he could use. He found a section on solar energy and read that with a troubled look on his face.

A yellow star fueled a chemical reaction in his species’s bodies. The record recommended that he stay out of the open until nightfall.

He couldn’t do that. Mr. Johnson expected him to help out to pay for the lodging.

He read the section again. What did those reactions do to his people? He couldn’t find anything other than general warnings. He cut the player off. He hated the fact that he might blow up without warning.

How did he explain something like that to Mr. Johnson.

There must be a way he could fight the inevitable without having to hide from the sunlight.

There had to be something he could do to fix things.

P’l’t pulled on his goggles to help protect his eyes from the bright star. He decided that he needed to walk the property for a while. He felt that he would snap if something happened that he could have prevented from happening.

How many of his people had been exposed to a yellow sun? Maybe some of the colonies could have told him what happened under those conditions. They were as out of touch as his home planet.

He hoped the colonies were still out there. They deserved to live, despite not wanting to answer to the motherworld anymore.

He wondered how long it would take for them to realize T’sla was extinct.

He decided that he should walk into town. Some of the local foods agreed with his changed biology all too well. He decided that he would have been poisoned by some of it if he hadn’t become living fire cloaked in ash from the air.

He supposed his situation could be a lot worse than what it was.

P’l’t found that the walking grew easier the more he did it. He supposed that was the function of the sunlight on his skin. He didn’t know, but it seemed likely.

How much would the light boost his physical abilities? He had no clue, and he didn’t know how he could test for it with the primitive tech the humans had.

It might be years before they could match with his homeworld.

Until then, he planned to stay out of trouble and blend in as much as he could with the way he casually produced a flame from parts of his body, and his wide orange eyes, and dark skin made of particles from the air.

The locals left him alone as a favor to the Johnsons. They didn’t want him around because he looked like a freak to them. If he displayed the strength he had gained from his transference, not even their liking for the old couple would keep them from trying to chase him out of town.

They wouldn’t like what he could do if he decided to exert himself in his own defense.

P’l’t felt lighter as he went down the road. The little town approached at a faster pace than he thought it should. He looked down and saw that he was flying over the asphalt. He paused and hovered in the air to his delight.

He flew back and forth. How was he doing it? More fuel from the sun lifting him up? How far could he go?

P’l’t looked up at the air. The color seemed wrong in its blueness. He could fly so that didn’t matter. He pointed himself upwards and asked for more speed. He rocketed into the sky.

He had to wear an antigravity pack back home to do this.

He headed straight up, reaching for the clouds. He stopped when he could see the edge of space. He looked toward the horizon on both sides. How was he doing this? 

Flames erupted from his chest, burning in the thin air as he hovered in place.

He could do this all day, but it wasn’t getting him any food. He had to get home and get something from the diner. He should hide this until he really needed it.

Why give the humans more reasons to be envious of him?

P’l’t headed for the planet. He couldn’t see the surface but he thought that he should be able to find Littleville without too much of a problem.

It took him a few hours before he stumbled on a sign that pointed him in the right direction. He arrived at the diner as the sun went down. He didn’t know how he was going to explain things to the Johnsons, but he hoped to come up with something after he ate.

He dug in to feed the inner fire that was working on his body. He took time to apply more skin before bursting out in flame in front of his acquaintances. Only the Johnsons seem to treat him with anything like caring. The rest of the town tolerated him.

He admitted that he was the outsider. Why should they care about him? He finished his meal and sat back in his chair. At least nothing seemed to be able to poison him.

He paid his bill and headed for the door. He could fly home to his cabin pretty quickly now. What else would the sun do to him while he was trying to straighten things about himself?

He headed along the road until his feet left the ground. Then he sped up faster than a truck, or a car.

P’l’t laughed like a hissing flame as he soared toward home. He could go anywhere in the world now. He wondered what his top speed could be. He had launched himself to a low orbit with almost no effort. Could he travel beyond the moon with air?

Did he need air now?

What could he do with this flight? It was useless without a purpose. He supposed that he would be able to gather supplies that much faster since he could fly from the farm to the stores in seconds.

The news indicated that a war was on the horizon. Did he want to get involved in that? He wasn’t much of a fighter, but maybe he could do something to keep his part of this world safe.

He wondered if he should fight for his country against the other tribes. Maybe he could stand out of the light and perform rescues instead of taking things into his own hands.

Was he impervious to the physical weapons the humans possessed? Did he want to find out?

2  
Edward Thaw inspected the hole in his chest again. He used a mirror in his bathroom. It still glowed with a yellow spark. The skin around the hole was puckered, but not rotting as far as he could see. It looked like he didn’t have to worry about it one more day.

He walked out of the bathroom. He still had to get to work. He had planes to put together for Amalgamated. Engines didn’t inspect themselves.

Thaw pulled on his shirt and buttoned it. He could drive out to the plant easily enough. He should get there in time before the first whistle blowing for his shift.

The thing in his chest didn’t bother him anymore. He supposed that he had been lucky when it had struck him in the chest. It could have killed him.

He tried not to think about that as he locked up his apartment and headed down to the lot for his car. A few inches either way and he wouldn’t be heading into work. He would be in a plot somewhere.

Thaw had three more engines to get into shape before they were shipped to the other side of the plant to be put in wings. He hoped to be done early so he could go to the game later. He expected to sit in the stands and watch his team lose while he was drinking beer, and eating a hot dog.

Everyone else had families to go home to after work. No one would want to go with him. Most of them would also be trying to finish their workload, and some of them would have to stay late to get the job done.

Thaw reached the plant and parked in the lot after checking in at the gate. The guard would fall down if a wind blew on him wrong, but at least he was there to keep casual drivers out. He walked into the plant and headed for his work bay. He shared it with four other guys, but he was there first.

He checked his engines where they sat on a table. All he had to do was fit in some seals, and make sure that they were ready to go before he loaded them on a cart and rolled them over to the other side of the plant.

There guys would lift them up into wings and bolt them down and make all the necessary connections so that the fuel would turn the propellers to move the plane forward. Then the plane would be moved out to be shipped to the buyer.

He knew the company had painters to put on company logos, but he didn’t have to deal with that.

Thaw pulled on work goggles and started working. The sooner he was done, the easier it would be to get out of there at five. Then he could drive over to the game. He should have packed a clean shirt, but he shrugged. There was nothing he could do about that now.

Everyone was talking about the fact they thought a war was coming. That didn’t matter to Thaw. The hole in his chest made him ineligible for the draft. The armed forces didn’t want someone who might keel over at the wrong moment because of a damaged heart.

And Thaw admitted he didn’t want to shoot a stranger in the face in another country.

He had the first engine ready to go before the others came in. He smiled. All he needed to do was move it to the cart and take it across the building. Soon they wouldn’t have to do that. They would be making engines on a conveyor belt and someone would pick the engine up and put it in the plane as soon as it rolled off the assembly line.

Until that happened, he had to hook a chain from a pulley hanging from the ceiling to the engine and move it by hand. Then he could walk back and start on the next one in line.

He wrapped the chain around the engine, hooking the end to the strand hanging down from the pulley. He pushed and the engine started across then it slipped from the chain embrace because he had misjudged the grip. It started for the floor.

“No!” Thaw couldn’t help the shout. He couldn’t do anything to stop the engine but the word escaped him before he could move. At least he hadn’t had time to try to catch the thing like his first instinct. That would have put him back in the hospital.

The engine floated in the air a few inches above the floor. He stared at the frozen hunk of metal. He looked around. No one was around to see what had happened.

“How the heck is this happening?” Thaw walked around the frozen engine. “I need to get this thing on the cart before it hits the ground.”

Thaw wrapped the chain more securely around the engine. He pushed the button to raise the engine up. He pushed it so it was over the cart, and lowered it gently in place.

He didn’t know what had happened but he wasn’t going to tell anyone. They would think he was crazy.

And could he do it again. That was the kicker. Could he make things stop in midair anytime he wanted?

That would be neat if he could. What could he do with some kind of unknown talent? Stopping people would make it easy to steal things he supposed. What else could he do with it?

Would it stop bullets?

Thaw rolled the cart along the lanes marked out for it. His mind whirled at the implications that he had some kind of ability straight out of a comic book. He decided that he could skip the game to test how to turn it on and off.

What if it was a one time thing? He might have wasted it on an accident instead of something useful. He conceded that keeping his job was more useful to him than a talent he couldn’t control.

The rest of the day flew by for Thaw as he dwelt on what had happened. He took his lunch at a nearby diner, but he couldn’t remember what he had ate later. Then he went back to his job and finished the other two engines. He moved them to the cart and shipped them along just as he had the first.

When the whistle blew for the end of shift, he walked out to his car and sat behind the wheel. Whatever had happened had happened because of the thing in his chest. That was the only explanation in his mind. He had been a normal guy, then this thing had come through his windshield. It had been like getting shot. Now he froze a falling hunk of steel in place for what could have been minutes while he put the chain back around it.

How could he explain that to someone else? He couldn’t explain it to himself.

He definitely couldn’t go to the game like this. He would be stuck in a seat in the middle of hundreds of other people who would be pushing on him while he was stuck in this bad situation. What could he do?

He decided that maybe he should drive around. Maybe his mind would clear up if he just did something automatic for a while. Nothing was more automatic than driving.

He pulled out of the lot and decided to head anywhere but home. He had a full tank of gas. The highway was only a mile away. All he had to do was get on it and drive until the gas ran out.

Maybe he would have an answer to his problem by the time that happened.

What did he do if he didn’t have an answer? How did he live with what he had seen happen? Was he going crazy and not realizing it until now?

If he knew what had happened and how to deal with it, maybe he wouldn’t be thinking about how his world had turned upside down.

He turned on the radio. He wanted some music and Tommy Dorsey’s band was on one of the AM stations. At least he had something to lose his mind to while he drove. 

He saw a sign for Littleville and realized he had driven miles from the plant. He saw a streak of fire in the sky and wished for luck on it as he pulled off the exit. He needed to get gas and head home. He had to face his fear of cracking up and deal with it.

He could ignore everything if it didn’t happen again. He could file it in the back of his mind and worry about more mundane things. That was the way to go in his opinion.

He found a gas station and pulled in. He got out of the car and went in. The guy behind the counter tried to smile at him.

“How’s it going?” He wore a white shirt, and bow tie. At least he didn’t have to wear a hat like some of the gas jockeys Thaw had dealt with since getting his car.

“It’s okay.” Thaw didn’t think about smiling. “Is there a place around here to eat?”

“There’s a diner down the road.” The counter man pointed out the window at the road. “Just go along here a couple of miles and you’ll be in town. The diner is right at the crossroads.”

“Thanks.” Thaw paid for his gas, then went out and filled his tank up. He didn’t feel like eating, but he needed fuel. He needed something to keep his mind off of breaking for real.

He turned and headed down the road. He decided that once he had something to eat he would head home. Then he could get ready for work tomorrow, and get some sleep.

He would have put down what happened to a bad dream when he got up and headed in after a good night’s sleep.

Thaw spotted the diner after a few minutes more of driving. He pulled into a lot shared by two other places. He got out and walked into the diner. He noted more than a few coveralls and caps.

He grabbed a table and ignored the talk around him. He ordered some food and hoped it wouldn’t taste bad. He had a drive back to his place to get done before he could think about sleeping.

He ate his food mechanically while thinking he hadn’t seen anything else strange. Maybe he had just thought he had seen an engine block pause in midair. That seemed better to his mind.

He decided to hold with that. Denial had to free up his mind for more important things.

He finished his dinner. He took a deep breath. He wondered how long he could go denying what he had seen before something bad happened to him.

He dropped his fork on the plate. It clinked gently down to a landing. That’s what solid objects should do.

They didn’t stop falling. That wasn’t how the world worked.

Thaw walked out in the lot. He looked up in the dark sky. What if the world did work so that things stopped falling? What if he was the one that was wrong? What would happen if he started flying straight up right now?

What would happen if he did start flying?

His feet left the ground for a few seconds. Impact on the asphalt jarred him out of his reverie. It also made him think that maybe he could fly if he knew how to control things.

How important would he be to the coming war if he could fly?

He got in his car and decided to drive home. He didn’t know if he wanted to fly, but it could be something to work on while he was drinking a beer.

3  
Ste’e P’l’t looked at his creation. He thought it would do the job he wanted it to do with no problem. He had raided junkyards around Littleville for what he wanted.

It had taken a lot of wire stripped from cars to get enough to carry the power for the machine he had built. It wasn’t much, but it should do what he wanted with some adjustments.

He had taken a raft of radio parts and turned them into something that could pick up a signal miles away. If he figured out how to construct a satellite with the primitive native technology, he could extend his range over the horizon.

Anything around Littleville would come to him as long as the radio was on.

That should help him if there was something he could help with announced on the radio.

He needed to find a way to the scene if he wanted to help out. He needed to work on his navigation skills so he could find places while flying.

He didn’t expect to make much of a difference, but it would be something to help him practice with his new abilities. He wanted to know how much he could do with the nuclear fire coursing through his system.

At least he hadn’t been able to shoot it in a stream like he wanted. That would have been great for burning things away from the fence line.

Of course the thought he might set something on fire by accident kept him from exploring the idea totally.

Blowing up the Johnsons’ house was not a good idea in his opinion.

Mr. Johnson arrived at the door. He looked at the wiring, parts, and knobs. He scratched the back of his head as he examined the assembly.

“What’s all this?” He waved at the gadgets.

“It’s the world biggest radio.” P’l’t smiled. “I’m getting ready to test it to see how far it reaches.”

“Go ahead.” Mr. Johnson nodded. “Then we have to round up that stupid bull. He’s come through the fence again.”

“Let’s see if it will work.” P’l’t turned the power dial. Static came out of the speakers. He tuned for channels. He smiled as various signals filtered from the atmosphere. He nodded as he set the dial to some native music.

“Which one is this?” Mr. Johnson snapped his fingers.

“The marker says somewhere in Missouri.” P’l’t nodded his head. He must be losing his mind. The music sound good to him now. “What do you think?”

“Can we listen to baseball games?” The farmer crossed his arms. “If we can, I’m game.”

“I’ll have to find out who’s broadcasting.” P’l’t shrugged as he cut the power. “Then I think I could track it down for you.”

“All right.” Johnson smiled. “Let’s get this bull. The faster we can get it back to where it belongs, the better I’ll like it.”

“No problem.” P’l’t pulled on his goggles to cover his orange eyes. “It should be easy.”

“Let’s see how easy it is.” Mr. Johnson led the way from the cabin. “Where did you get the power for your gadget, Steve?”

“I got an engine hooked up to turn a dynamo.” P’l’t looked around for the offending bull. “I just need to earn some money for gas. Other than that, it runs by itself.”

“Don’t take any gas from the tractors.” Mr. Johnson looked for the bull. He saw it standing in the yard at the edge of his fields. “There he is.”

“I see him.” P’l’t walked toward the bull. “Let’s see what happens when we get him over the line.”

The bull glanced at the thin man walking toward him. He made a noise to say he didn’t like the approach. He pawed the ground with a hoof.

“Don’t even think about it.” P’l’t raised his hands. He looked around to make sure that he and Mr. Johnson were the only ones around. “You have to go back over the fence line and go home.”

The bull charged him with its head down. Its horns had blunt points leading the way. Once it was done with this enemy, it would go back to eating.

Hands grabbed the horns. Cardy pushed with all its weight, but its target only slid back from its assault.

“Time for you to go home.” P’l’t stepped to one side, twisting with his grip on the horns. The bull fell over from the move.

P’l’t grabbed the bull by its body and hoisted the animal into the air. He flew the creature over to the fence where the bull had knocked down to get away from its herd.

He dropped the cow over the line. He smacked the rump of the beast to get it running from him.

“That’s impressive.” Mr. Johnson pushed his hat back on his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“This sun is giving me a lot of extra strength.” P’l’t brushed his hands together. “I can’t explain it.”

“We need to get some posts and repair this break.” The farmer examined the smashed boards. “Why does it keep coming through here?”

“Maybe it doesn’t like the rest of the flock.” P’l’t shrugged. “Maybe it likes to be alone since it’s the head cow.”

“It needs to be alone on that side of the line.” Mr. Johnson glared at his neighbor’s land. “I’m getting tired of putting that bull back where it belongs.”

“Maybe we should use something like stone to make the patch.” P’l’t examined the broken boards. “Maybe Cardy will stay on his side if he sees we changed his crossing spot.”

“Maybe.” Mr. Johnson nodded in agreement. “Where are you going to get the rock?”

“I don’t know.” P’l’t looked at the width of the break. He thought maybe he had enough for a good measurement. “I’ll think of something.”

“All right.” Mr. Johnson nodded. “Hurry up and get it before that idiot comes out here to ask what happened to his bull.”

P’l’t concentrated and headed straight up to get a view of the area. He headed for the local quarry. It was closed and full of water, but he should be able to get some stone out of it.

He found a couple of chunks that should fill in the break in the fence where Cardy had pushed through. He grabbed them in his arms and headed back to the farm. He landed, putting the rocks down in the space where the fence boards had been.

“That’s good.” Mr. Johnson smiled. “Let that stupid Cardy try to push that out of the way.”

“He might move down the fence line and start crossing there.” P’l’t leaned the broken boards against the stones he had procured.

“Can you bring more rocks if we need it?” Mr. Johnson moved to stand beside the barricade and staring out over the yard.

“Sure.” P’l’t nodded. “I can fly down to the quarry and bring them back to fill in any gaps.”

“Good.” The farmer turned away from the fence. “Let’s get our own animals fed, and get started on the chores.”

The rest of the day passed fairly fast. P’l’t handled most of the chores himself. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson set aside food for him as he retired to his cabin. He wanted to tinker with his radio set to improve it.

He might be able to get broadcasts as far away as Chicago, or Dallas. He didn’t think the set would act that well, but you never knew how things would turn out when you were tinkering with machinery.

He shoveled in the food. He didn’t have a grasp on taste, but it didn’t matter. His body was on fire. Food just stoked that flame.

P’l’t heard people talking about altitude and distance. He listened. His radio was picking up communications from airplanes above. He smiled at the side effect. He hadn’t planned that but it allowed him to listen to people who were doing things and going places.

And it was something that he could use in the future if he needed to navigate the airways with a radio designed to talk to them while he was in the air. The local government might pay him to intercede in airborne problems on their behalf. Did he want to do that?

He had been reckless with the rocks, but no one knew who he was, or what he could do, except the Johnsons. He wanted to keep it that way. They seemed to want to keep it that way too.

A bunch of guys descending on their farm to question a freak would interfere in their quiet life. As long as he kept his exploits on the QT, they would keep him camouflaged from busybodys.

He didn’t want to test his abilities against the government when he didn’t know if he could handle major trouble from the humans.

He didn’t want his body ripped apart because they wanted to know how his inner shell worked.

That was especially true since he didn’t know how his inner body worked himself.

He listened to his radio. He absorbed what he could, not liking the news from overseas. Things might get a lot worse over there before they got better. Should he try to interfere somehow?

If he did interfere, would he make the situation better? Would he cause it to worsen into war?

Maybe he should stick to helping the locals until he had a better grasp on how best to use his ability.

He definitely should think about concealing his identity if he wanted to operate where people could see him. He didn’t want any enemy he might make to come back to the farm and hurt the Johnsons.

He needed a mask and some other clothes besides his work duds. A suit and tie didn’t seem to lend itself to what he wanted to do. He needed something so outlandish, no one would connect it to him.

He needed something out of a comic book. He needed to get some and see if he could put together something that wasn’t too embarrassing.

He knew one thing. He wasn’t dressing up as a bat. That was totally out.

He didn’t want anything too flashy. If part of his inner fire surfaced, that would be flashy enough.

What could he do to prove that he was a hero on the inside? He needed a major problem he could solve for someone.

He decided that maybe that wasn’t the way to go. He needed to wait until he had an emergency he could handle. He needed to get in and get out before anyone saw him. That would prevent connections back to his new home.

He cut off the lights and put on some of the native music. He hoped things would be clear in the morning. He wanted to be a hero, even if it was something fake thanks to his advantages.

It was hard to risk anything when you didn’t have anything to lose.

Maybe Mr. Johnson would have some advice on how to get along with the other natives. He had avoided prolonged contact so far. He doubted he could continue to do that. If he decided to get involved in things, he could expect a lot of people trying to talk to him and trying to get some kind of advantage.

A fake identity might stop that.

P’l’t listened to the music and thought.

4  
Edward Thaw sat at his breakfast table and thought about the ability to make things move around. Is that what he had? Could he control it?

What could he do with it if he could control it? How useful was the ability to move things through the air with mind power?

He supposed he was trying to be practical since he didn’t know anyone who could fly under their own power.

How much could he lift with this power? If he had could move tons, he might be able to make money moving cargo for other companies.

He would be rich. If he could move as much as a cargo flight, he could carry more faster than any plane.

How did he get it to work? How did heroes in the comics fly under their own power? What would Superman do?

Maybe he could command something to move by talking to it. He had told the engine to stop falling.

Maybe he could tell the power to do what he wanted. How did he test it?

“Lift me three feet off the floor.” That should be simple enough to show that he had something other than imagination.

He floated up the precise distance he asked for, then dropped back to the floor. He looked down at his feet. Had he really done that? He rubbed his face with a hand. He hadn’t really believed that he could fly.

“Lift me three feet and hold, all right?” He floated up and remained in place. He felt pressure from all sides as if he was trying to fall in different directions at once.

Maybe the way he was moving things was causing the odd sensation. He could fly at least. He wondered if there was a limit. Would he fall out of the sky at a bad moment when he needed the power the most?

He didn’t like that he could fall out of the sky. He wondered what else he could do?

“Spoon.” A spoon sitting in a drain holder leaped out of the cup and flew to his hand. He definitely felt some pressure when he asked for it. It was like he was changing gravity around him.

He smiled. He had something he could control with some thought. He knew that it could hurt him if he wasn’t careful.

He needed to see how much he could lift before he blew himself up. Then he could think about opening a cargo business.

How fast could he fly? He needed to test that too.

Maybe he could fly to the plant to test out his power. That should give him some idea how fast he could fly.

He decided that he should keep this discovery a secret for practical reasons. He didn’t want the government trying to take him apart when he didn’t know how things worked himself. He didn’t want people bothering him for favors. If he got famous, people would come out of the woodwork with scams they wanted him to help carry off. He had no idea how the thing worked beyond controlling gravity some.

He wondered what he could use as a disguise. He didn’t want his face plastered everywhere.

He decided that he could get a welder’s mask from work if he really wanted to go ahead with this scheme of his.

He decided he needed to know a little about flying hazards. He didn’t want to have a problem with bird impacts, or lightning strikes.

He decided that he could wear a bandana to protect him on this test flight. He would think of something better like getting a welder’s mask, or maybe a gas mask.

Either would be good. The lenses would protect his eyes, and the solid material would protect his face. The gas mask might help him with filtering harmful substances while he was flying too.

He didn’t know what kind of crap was floating around up there, and he didn’t want to run into it and fall out of the sky because of it.

He didn’t know if the power would keep him up in the air if he passed out. Would it follow any given order, then stop? His small tests suggested that it would. Once ordered, he might be able to sit back and just watch the sky around him.

He liked that idea.

He got ready for work, pulling on a jacket. The temperature was up, but he would be traveling colder climes. He found a yellow and brown scarf and wrapped that around the lower part of his face. It wasn’t a mask but it should help conceal his identity.

He wrapped the scarf around his head as he stepped outside of his apartment. He pulled on the jacket, pulled the door closed, and thought about where the plant was in relation to where he was.

“Lift me ten stories and carry me southwest for five miles.” That should get him to the plant without too much of a problem. If he ran into problems, he could go higher until he was out of trouble.

He exploded into the air and headed in the indicated direction. He nodded at the pull on his body. It was like being a marionette with only one control string. That went with his guess that gravity was at work.

The best thing was he stood upright in the air. If the gravity cut off, he would start down feet first. He was hopeful to roll with the landing and live. 

He doubted it would come to that. He expected to hit the ground, break every bone in his body starting with his legs, then die. If he lived he could fly to get help if he stayed one foot off the ground.

He felt that he was only going as fast as he normally would in his car. That was okay. He wasn’t ready to barrel full speed across the sky.

He spotted the plant. He flew over the fence, and headed for the roof. He directed the pull to land him on the roof. He looked down in the lot. No one was around. He took off his coat and scarf and placed them on the roof. He found a cinder block and pinned the clothing down next to the roof access.

He went to the edge. He ordered his power to let him drop safely to the ground. He smiled. His test run had worked out better than he had thought. He still didn’t know the upper limits, but he could cruise five miles with no problem.

How much weight could his gravity power lift at the same time?

He needed to think of a way to test that without killing himself. He didn’t want to be lifting something and have it drop on him.

Thaw walked into the plant. He headed for his bay. He didn’t know what he had but he figured he could keep busy until he got off. Then he could work on his gravity power until he got tired.

“Hey, Ed.” Randall Cruise shambled across the work floor. “Have you seen Smitty?”

“No.” Thaw looked around the floor. “I just got here. Maybe he’s running late.”

Cruise managed the floor, made sure everyone was working, and kept supplies coming down the line so they could work on engines for planes. He didn’t like someone not showing up for work.

“Tell him to come to my office when you see him.” Cruise shambled away, heading for another part of the plant. He waved at a manager for the section that worked on shaping propellers.

Thaw headed for his bay. Smith had been a steady worker for a while. It wasn’t like him not to show up. Maybe someone should call his house. He realized he didn’t have the number.

Maybe Cruise had it. He wouldn’t call the guy. He would just write out a pink slip.

Thaw didn’t know what he could do until lunch came up. He could ask for directions to Smitty’s place and fly over to see if he was home.

He didn’t see what else he could do. He wasn’t a policeman. He couldn’t call out a dragnet like Dick Tracy. Flying to the guy’s place and back should be the easiest thing to do.

After that, Smith would have to explain things to Cruise to get out of whatever problem he would have when he did get to work.

The best bet was the mechanic was fired. Cruise rarely changed his mind when he made a decision.

There was nothing he could do about it. He should get started on his engine blocks and see how many he could do before he quit for the day.

“Morning, Ed.” The guys drifted in, Rob Akers leading the arrivals. He had a cup of coffee in his hand as he surveyed the empty space. “Work orders?”

“Nothing yet.” Thaw shrugged. “Cruise is looking for Smitty. Seen him?”

“Nope.” Akers sipped his coffee. “He’s been acting a little squirrelly lately.”

“Really?” Thaw frowned. He hadn’t noticed a difference in their colleague. “How so?”

“He’s making calls at Rosie’s and huddling over the phone.” Akers shrugged. “He bought a new car. He comes in late and tries to leave early.”

“Wait.” Thaw held up a hand. “He bought a new car? How did he do that?”

“Don’t know.” Rob smiled over his coffee. “I just know what I saw. And what I saw was a new Ford with Smitty behind the wheel.”

“But he said he was broke.” Thaw frowned. “He asked me for a five to get something to eat the other day.”

“He got the money from somewhere.” Akers shrugged. “The car came after the calls.”

The fire alarm sounded. Thaw looked around. He didn’t see a fire. What was going on?

“Looks like we have a drill.” Akers turned and started from the bay. He waved at others, pointing at the nearest door so everyone knew where to go to get outside.

Thaw started across the plant. He was confused by the lack of fire. Then he realized the plane area could be on fire. He started sprinting across the open space to get to the access door.

“Need to get across this space faster.” Thaw concentrated on feeling the pull again. He found himself sliding through the air, landing beside the door a few seconds later. 

He pushed the door open and stepped outside. One of their planes was on fire. It looked like the engine had blown as soon as the installers had turned it on to test it. How could he use gravity to stop this? Fire was energy. He didn’t think he could redirect it any way. Maybe he could stop the fuel if he could pinpoint the effect.

“I need for the inflammables to clear the area and not feed the fire.” He looked around for a fire extinguisher. He had to help put the fire out. The plant could be shut down if it was damaged.

He noticed that the fuel from the lines dropped well away from the fire. At least that part of the plan was working.

He found a fire extinguisher as the sprinklers came on and rained water everywhere. He directed the water on the fire with a single command. He followed that up with the foam from the fire extinguisher.

The concentrated stream quickly put the fire out while the installers cut the flow of fuel to the blaze. Thaw put the red canister down when he was sure the last flicker of fire was gone.

“Thanks, Ed.” Jake Owens called down from the cockpit. “The engine blew up. I never seen anything like it.”

“If you can get it out of there, we can look at it and see what happened.” Thaw hoped it was something simple. The engine was scrap. He knew that before he could look at it. If he found the cause, he could prevent other accidents.

As soon as Owens and his partner unhooked the engine from its housing, Thaw had it chained up and ready to drop to the floor. He went over it with his naked eye.

He frowned. The engine had been sabotaged as far as he could tell. Who had worked on that engine?

5  
P’l’t played with the knobs on his radio rig. He listened to the static resolve into words, then back to static. He paused as he intercepted a radio message from a pilot to a tower somewhere.

“Mayday, mayday.” The voice sounded calm. “I have an engine fire. I am heading in for a crash landing twenty minutes north of Littleville.”

P’l’t rushed to the door, pulling on his goggles. He launched himself into air on a trail of fire. He rocketed north, calling on more power as he went. He shed some mass to speed up faster. He scanned the sky for a sign of the stricken plane.

He saw a trail of smoke and willed for more speed. The plane was going to hit a wheat field and set it on fire from the looks of things. He had to be able to do something to help.

He reached the plane a second later. How did he apply what he had to this situation?

He pulled on more mass and grabbed the underside of the hull and began to press on it gently, pushing the nose up. The wings would give lift to the thing to help him out. He tried to be careful. He didn’t want to put his hands through the metal skin by accident.

He gently applied more force to give the pilot better control of the plane. Some of the controls must have gone up with the engine. He gently slowed down in the air, trying to slow the plane as he went.

Another humanoid appeared in the sky. He wore a coat and scarf as he drew closer to the plane. He frowned at P’l’t carrying the plane on his back.

“Need any help?” The flying human loomed closer. “How are you doing that?”

“I have solar power.” P’l’t stared at him. “How are you doing that? I thought humans couldn’t fly.”

“I don’t know.” The flying human kept pace with the plane and alien. “It just started the other day. Let me help out.”

“Go ahead.” P’l’t couldn’t stop him with his hands full of plane.

“Decrease weight of plane one hundred times.” The flying man started falling to the ground as his flight cut off. “Decrease weight fifty times, don’t let me crash into the ground.”

He floated in midair as the plane didn’t lay on top of its rescuer like it should. P’l’t pulled the plane to the ground before it could fly out of control. Hopefully the pilot would get smart and cut the remaining engine so he could just drop it in the middle of the road next to a stop sign.

The scarfed man flew to the window and made a cutting gesture across his neck. The remaining engine spun to a stop as they watched. P’l’t looked for something to put the fire out. He didn’t need the plane to explode since they had landed it without harm to the crew.

The man in the scarf said something to the engine and it dropped out of the wing and slid out of the way of fuel leaking down from the exposed gas hose. He tied the hose into a knot with the wave of his hand.

“That’s really useful.” P’l’t smiled. “I have to be going. Nice meeting you.”

“Aren’t you going to take the credit.” The scarfed man held up a hand. “You did all the work.”

“I can’t.” P’l’t took to the air. “I have to work on my pet projects.”

“Wait.” The scarfed man took to the air after him.

“I don’t know what else I can do.” P’l’t didn’t pour on the speed. He did keep flying toward Littleville.

“I work at the plant that makes the engines for the planes. One of the mechanics didn’t come to work. He worked on this engine, and one that caught fire at the plant.”

The two neared the small town.

“So you think there’s a connection.” The alien paused in the air as he considered his next move. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I would like to look around, but I don’t know anything about solving a crime.” The scarfed man shrugged. “Maybe he would talk to you. He won’t talk to me once he recognizes me.”

“I’m not really intimidating.” P’l’t rubbed a cheek. “All right. Where does this guy live?”

“The Moonrise Apartments.” The scarfed man seemed to be smiling. “Thanks. I think he will answer your questions faster than he would mine.”

“Why is that?” P’l’t headed toward town. He hoped no one looked up while he was flying above them.

“Because if he recognizes me, he will think I won’t do anything to him since we work together.” The scarfed man pointed to a set of buildings with a short exit to the road. “I would have to work harder for answers.”

“He probably won’t say anything to me either.” P’l’t headed down, on the alert for anyone looking suspicious as he dropped to a landing.

“I think it’s two-oh-three.” The other man dropped to a light landing. “I’ll go around in case he decides to run instead of talking to you.”

“What’s the guy’s name?” P’l’t felt like this was a job for the police, not an alien superman like himself. For all they knew, the guy was dead because he had seen too much.

“It’s Smith.” The scarfed man walked on the grass to get to the back of the apartment building. “Everyone calls him Smitty.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.” P’l’t hopped over the stairs to get to the second floor. Examination of the doors pointed him to the other side of the connecting hall. Another set of steps led down to the ground.

He knocked on the numbered door. The faster he got this done, the faster he could go back to his radio.

Why was he doing this? Investigating anything was beyond him, and what he used to do at the university.

He heard footsteps coming to the door. He waited with head down as he listened. What did he do when this Smith opened the door. He thought an assertion of guilt might be in order.

The door opened. A man in a suit with short bushy hair glared at P’l’t. The face said go away without the mouth opening.

“What do you want?” He glared at his visitor with unblinking eyes and stolid face.

That was something P’l’t didn’t see much. Most people hated his face on sight. This guy hated him for ringing the door bell. His face wasn’t in the questioning glare the alien had come to expect from someone seeing him for the first time.

“I am looking for a Mr. Smith.” P’l’t decided to keep things as truthfully as possible. “The people at the plant want to talk to him about a plane.”

“There’s no Smith here.” The man went to close the door. “Go away.”

P’l’t caught the door with his hand. He held it against the man’s efforts to close the door.

“I told you there was no Smith here.” The man glared at his visitor. “Let go of the door.”

“I was wondering who you were.” P’l’t massed up as he held the door. “Do you mind taking a minute and answering a couple of questions?”

“I do mind.” The guy reached under his suit jacket. He tried to bring his arm back around. An iron grip crushed down on that arm as the ugly guy in goggles stepped through the door. A pistol fell to the carpeted floor with a small thump.

“If you had answered my questions, you wouldn’t be hurting right now.” P’l’t pulled his arm. He struck the man in the face with a fist of black stone. The stranger went down.

P’l’t kicked him after he was down. It was something Mr. Johnson had showed him once. Sometimes you had to kick twice, but not this time.

He looked around the place. He didn’t see anyone else in the front room. He found a dead human in the bathroom. He shook his head. At least he knew what had happened to Smith from the sleep attire on the corpse.

What did he do about the man trying to keep him out of the apartment?

He heard someone coming down the hall. He glanced in that direction. He cursed at seeing the open door. He hadn’t bothered to close it when he had forced his way inside the apartment. If they were friends of the first man, they would see that and not like it.

Something thumped against the floor of the breezeway beyond the door. Did he want to wait to see what was going on, or did he just attack and hope there was a reason other than they had dropped something?

He decided it was better to look and see what was going on. If there was a problem, he could fix it.

If he was wrong, caution would prevent him from doing something like accidentally ripping someone’s spine out with his hands.

He flew to the door and looked out. Three men in suits stared at him. He stared back. Then they raised weapons and fired at him. He ducked back from the attack.

Of course, the one he had punched would have friends. His quick glance told him that they had brought a rolled up carpet. He supposed they were going to take Smith out of his tub, roll him up in the carpet, and take him out of the way.

Now that plan was ruined because he came out of the apartment on his flight ability like a comet. He hit them as they fired their weapons at him. He didn’t feel a thing as he crashed into them.

The impact scattered the gunmen. One dropped his weapon as he flew down the breezeway. He had taken the brunt of the ram. He hit and sat there where he landed trying to feel his legs. The other two tried to get their feet on opposite sides of the hall.

P‘l’t kicked the one that was down to his right. He didn’t want them to keep shooting at him until they got lucky. That guy took the boot to the head and went down with bruise looking like a shoe print on his face.

He turned to the one on the left. That guy had his gun in hand, and snapped shots at him. He grabbed the gun and squeezed. The metal bent into an unrecognizable mess. He punched with the other hand. The guy went down.

The third guy got up and ran down the staircase. He left his weapon behind in his haste to get away from the monster that had decimated them.

P’l’t followed, ready to fly down after the man. He smiled when he didn’t have to do that. The man in the scarf held the third man up in a hand of gravity.

“They killed Smith.” P’l’t jumped down to the lot. “He’s upstairs in his bathroom.”

“You can’t prove anything.” The floating man glared at the both of them. “Let me down.”

“He’s right.” P’l’t nodded. “We can’t prove anything, and it would be our word against their’s. Smith is in his tub. He looks like a suicide instead of a murder.”

“So we don’t have any proof?” The man in the scarf seemed to frown at his floating mark. “And they killed Smitty?”

“It looks like.” P’l’t stepped back. “We should step back and let the police handle this.”

“We should.” The man in the scarf glared at his grinning captive. “Increase gravity twenty five times around target.”

Bones audibly snapped inside the man’s body. The ball of gravity dropped him on the parking lot. He screamed a little when he hit.

“If I were you, I would confess when the police arrived.” The man in the scarf stepped on a broken ankle. “Otherwise, I’ll do worse to you.”

Epilogue  
“Have you seen the paper, Steve?” Mr. Johnson paused at the door of the shed. “I didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Ed, this is Mr. Johnson.” P’l’t gestured at the farmer in the door. “Mr. Johnson, this is Ed. What about the paper?”

Ed sat in a chair without a shirt. P’l’t had a magnifying glass in hand. They both looked at Mr. Johnson. He came forward with a newspaper in hand. He held it up so they could see the front page.

FLYING MAN SAVES AIRPLANE brought a frown to P’l’t and Ed’s faces.

“How did they get a picture?” P’l’t handed the glass to Mr. Johnson and took the paper. “We were high in the air until the end.”

“Any mention of me?” Ed tried to read the paper from where he was sitting, but couldn’t make out the words.

“No.” P’l’t handed the paper over. “No one was supposed to see me.”

“The picture isn’t that good.” Ed scanned the article. “I put the fire out, but it says you were there by yourself. How come I don’t get any glory?”

“I think an explanation is in order.” Mr. Johnson crossed his arms as he looked at the two.

“It’s kind of a long story.” P’l’t held his hand out to take the glass back. “One of Ed’s colleagues sabotaged some engines at the aircraft plant. One of the engines was installed on a new plane being flown to their customer. It blew up. I heard the emergency call and flew over to help out.”

“Why didn’t they say anything about me?” Ed threw the paper on a work table. “I was there too.”

“Hold still.” P’l’t held the glass to his eye as he inspected the hole in Ed’s chest. “It looks like a gravity engine, but that should be impossible. You said this came through the window of your car?”

“What’s a gravity engine, Steve?” Mr. Johnson came forward. He bent down and examined the hole with his naked eye. “Something is glowing in there all right.”

“It should be impossible.” P’l’t frowned. “This is technology from my world, or an equivalent. I never heard of Earth before I arrived here, and I don’t think it’s anywhere close to the Commonwealth that eventually formed. I can’t explain how it’s in your chest, or why it’s still working.”

“Let’s pretend that I never heard of aliens and space gates.” Mr. Johnson stepped back. “What does this thing do?”

“It controls gravity.” P’l’t handed Ed his shirt. “It’s what we used for our ships. A big enough engine and you can lift tons without effort. I have never heard of one being implanted in a living person before now. I would have said it was impossible.”

“Why impossible?” Ed buttoned his shirt.

“Because the energy constraints should be turning you into a skeleton.” P’l’t rubbed his chin. “It’s like a plane engine that draws all of the gas out of a tank in a few seconds.”

“So I should be dead.” Ed frowned at the thought. “Why aren’t I?”

“I have no idea.” P’l’t rubbed his temple. “What do you think, Mr. Johnson?”

“I think you need to start wearing a disguise if you’re going to be flying around where people can see you.” Mr. Johnson held up a hand. “I don’t want people bothering the wife over something like this.”

“Not to mention what the government would want out of this.” Ed shrugged. “At least they don’t know I’m out there.”

“They might if that guy you demolished sings.” P’l’t shook his head. “You broke every bone in his body.”

“He deserved it for what they did to Smith.” Ed set his face like a stubborn child. “At least he won’t be hurting anyone else for a while.”

“Smith the guy at the plant?,” Mr. Johnson broke in. He didn’t want a brawl breaking out. Who knew what would happen if they used their full power in the confines of the shed. They might turn him into paste by accident. “What happened to him?”

“We caught these guys getting ready to roll him up in a carpet.” Ed made a slashing gesture with his hand. “So we caught them, and called the police. One of them said there was nothing we could do to prove they had done anything. So I let him know how I felt about that.”

“We don’t know how things are going to shape up.” P’l’t shrugged. “The police said they were local thugs. They didn’t have any reason to sabotage the engines on their own.”

“So the brain is probably still out there, and looking for the both of you.” Mr. Johnson frowned at both of them. “You two need to come up with some things to conceal your identities if you want to keep doing these public acts.”

“That’s a fair point.” Ed nodded. “Any suggestions?”

“Not right off the top of my head.” Mr. Johnson looked out the door toward the main house. “Maybe Estelle could suggest something. Whatever you do, don’t bring trouble home with you.”

“Understood.” P’l’t nodded. “What do you want to do about the gravity engine, Ed?”

“I’m going to keep it.” Ed pulled on a long coat over his clothes. “It hasn’t killed me yet, so I might as well use it until it does.”

“You might take out a chunk of the city if that happens.” P’l’t exchanged a look with his landlord. “It would be safer to see if it can be removed.”

“The docs said they couldn’t when I was in the hospital.” Ed wrapped a scarf around his lower face. “It’s too close to my heart. One wrong slip and I’m dead either way.”

“What are you going to do?” Johnson put his hands in his overalls pockets.

“I’m going to work on a disguise like you said, and help people.” Ed smiled as he walked to the door. “I can’t let this goof get all the glory.”

“There was nothing glorious about it.” P’l’t raised a hand in protest.

“Keep telling yourself that, Steve.” He looked up in the sky and rocketed away.

“Are you going to keep helping people too?” Mr. Johnson shook his head.

“I guess so.” P’l’t shrugged. “It’s not about the glory. I heard someone crying for help and headed out to do something about it. It was that simple.”

“I’ll talk to the missus.” Mr. Johnson almost smiled. “We’ll come up with something you can wear that will help hide your face from view.”

“One thing does bother me.” P’l’t picked up the newspaper and looked at the front page again.”

“What’s that, Steve?” Mr. Johnson frowned.

“How did a gravity engine jam itself into a human and remain functioning.” P’l’t turned orange eyes on his friend. “He should be dead.”

“But he’s flying around like a winged monkey from one of those OZ books.” Mr. Johnson waved a hand. “What do you think happened?”

“I think the gate did it somehow.” P’l’t sat down in his chair. “It’s the only explanation other than the thing fell off a passing spaceship and none of the crew noticed.”

“Let’s say the gate did that.” Mr. Johnson crossed his arms again. “What do we do about it?”

“I could rip it out of his chest, but that would kill him.” P’l’t blinked at flame dancing from a hole in his hand. He summoned more particle skin to seal the fire inside. “I don’t know what to do right now.”

“I think you should leave it alone for right now, Steve.” Mr. Johnson looked him in the eye. “If he isn’t hurting anyone, then let him use the thing until he can’t use it anymore. I would be more worried about what else came through the gate before I shut it down.”

“I guess you’re right.” P’l’t stood. “I‘m sorry about getting in the paper. I didn’t see anyone around to take the picture.”

“It’s all right.” Mr. Johnson smiled. “You’re a hero now. That brings with it a lot of expectations. That is going to be something that you will have to handle and be ready for people to try to bring you down off your pedestal.”

“Envy?” P’l’t was familiar with how sapients treated others that didn’t belong to their group. Their species wasn’t that different in his mind.

“You damn right.” Johnson smiled. “Let’s go talk to Estelle. Maybe she can get you something that will conceal your face. We don’t need any reporters snooping around. The government will want you to start working for them as soon as they know where you live.”

“Would that be so bad?” P’l’t tucked the newspaper under his arm and cut the lights off to his rooms.

“I don’t know how your people decided how things got done, but Earth has a ton of governments.” Mr. Johnson started for the main house. “And while our government is one of the best in the world, it’s still run by bureaucrats who want to get ahead, and politicians who would sell their mothers for a favor. If you want to really help people, being a free agent is the way to go. That way you don’t have to answer to anybody but yourself.”

“That won’t give me a lot of options if I interfere in something the government is doing and it doesn’t like that.” P’l’t tramped after his landlord.

“As long as they don’t know who you are, it won’t matter except to put you on some wanted posters.” Mr. Johnson reached the back porch. “It worked for Zorro. It will work for you.”

“I guess you’re right about that.” P’l’t smiled. “Maybe I can boost the rig to get calls from around the world. I think I can fly anywhere with a little practice.”

“Get a globe.” Mr. Johnson smiled. “That will give you an idea of the land masses you’ll have to fly over.”

“Okay.” P’l’t nodded. “That should be easy to do.”

“And if you have to fly over Japan and China, remember they are shooting each other right now.” Mr. Johnson opened the door for them. “They will probably shoot at you too if you fly over there.”

“You’re taking this better than I expected.” P’l’t followed him into the house.

“I think that you are an adult.” Mr. Johnson hung his hat up. “I think you will make the right decision, whatever that is, when the time comes.”

“Thanks.” P’l’t put the newspaper on the kitchen table. He hadn’t expected that answer, but it made him feel better about helping the plane down to the ground. He had made the right decision to do what he had to do make sure it didn’t crash into something on the ground and kill anyone close by.

It had revealed his existence to the public, but that was an acceptable trade in his opinion.

“Let’s get some pie.” Mr. Johnson opened the refrigerator. “That always makes me feel good about something.”

“Don’t you dare, Eustace.” Mrs. Johnson called from the front of the house. “Get a sandwich and some tomato slices. That pie is for later.”

“Yes, dear.” Mr. Johnson frowned at P’l’t smiling at him.


End file.
